Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Proud Boys NYC ass-whupping: the REAL story

It’s ugly, all right.

I’ll try to piece together the facts as carefully as I can and to the best of my knowledge:

Shortly after the Metropolitan Republican Club invited former Taki’s Mag contributor Gavin McInnes to speak at an event on Friday, October 12, club representatives say they were besieged by “increasingly contentious phone calls at the Club, coordinated by activist groups on social media” for days demanding the event be canceled.

On the morning of the event, vandals spray-painted the anarchy “A” on the club’s front door, smashed windows, glued locks shot, and damaged a keypad entrance system.

They also left a note that, to a sane person, sounds a touch threatening:

Tonight, we put the Republican Party on notice, in defiance to the policy of mass misery they have championed.

The U.S. government has established concentration camps around the country for Latino people, shamelessly murdering black people, and continues its war machine that has slaughtered Muslim people with impunity for decades.…

While these atrocities persist unabated the Metropolitan Republican Club chose to invite a hipster fascist clown to dance for them, content to revel in their treachery against humanity….

Our attack is merely a beginning. We are not passive, we are not civil, and we will not apologize.

Maybe it’s my reptilian brain speaking here, but when I see groups of people showing up in public with their faces covered and screaming that you should be exterminated, I suspect they may be up to no good.

After Gavin delivered his speech, video shows members of his Proud Boysfraternal order of “Western chauvinists” leaving the club and being escorted away by police who were protecting them from shrieking throngs of predictably PMSing leftists spouting vitriol and threats.

The video proceeds for a little over three minutes as police shunt the Proud Boys away from the howling throngs. Then at some point it shows them suddenly darting down the street. Before you know it, there’s a street fight in front of a storefront.

Separate surveillance video from behind the storefront window shows a group of five masked people clad in black. Then it shows one of those “peaceful protesters” throwing a bottle. Then it shows those faceless “activists” getting swarmed by Proud Boys and beaten into the ground.

As far as I can tell, this was a case of mutual combat where one side lost and then cried foul.

Yep—just like the mewling, gutless, putrid little pukes they are. So far so good, far as I’m concerned; miserable little shits provoke a fight, miserable shits get their asses whupped and run crying from the scene. Read on for the ugly part, which came along in the aftermath and won’t surprise you in the least. The denouement:

Meanwhile, Antifa remains free to send threatening letters and smash windows and throw bottles.

In this sick social-status game over “tolerance,” only one side will be tolerated. In this war for the streets, only one side will be allowed to fight.

For however much longer the authorities can keep a lid on our side, anyway. Then, all of a sudden, what anybody might or might not be “allowed” to do won’t matter in the least. And after that, it REALLY gets ugly.

In a conversation the other day with someone lamenting the seemingly boundless forebearance and tolerance for abuse—to even include physical assault—on our side, I said this: there are basically two things humans won’t sit still for forever. One is hunger; no one, absolutely no one, is going to just sit back and let himself starve to death. The other: no one will put up with being used as a punching bag and a target indefinitely. Sooner or later, even the most tremulously meek schoolkid will get fed up and lash out in some fashion against a bully.

The Antifa fascists think they can go right on getting away with their bullshit. They’ve been encouraged to believe this by the authorities who have shielded them from consequence so far. One way or another, that, too, will not go on forever.

Update! In praise of the Proud Boys:

I was preparing to host a large event on the L.A. Westside for Ann Coulter, where she was going to give a talk and sign copies of her new book, Resistance Is Futile (buy it if you haven’t!). This was to be my first such event in five years. Back when I used to do high-profile conservative events on a regular basis, times were very different. No Trump, no Antifa threat. I never used to break my ass over security. I’d hire a minimum number of security guys, and I used venues that were far from impregnable, because the idea of violent thugs crashing them was not on anyone’s mind. In 2011, I did a large-scale gala right on Hollywood and Vine. Anyone walking down Hollywood Boulevard could have jumped a gate and they’d have been right in our midst. But we never worried about it, and it never happened. Ah, memories.

This time, I chose as impregnable a venue as I could. Second floor, no windows, no street access, only two doors, and underground parking. I asked the L.A. Proud Boys if they would serve as my security for the night, an offer they gladly accepted. The event was going to be completely private, invitation only, with the attendees culled from my personal, vetted mailing list. I was glad the Proud Boys were going to be there, but a week before the event, things took a turn for the bizarre, and all of a sudden the Proud Boys’ presence became far more vital.

My former podcast partner, Edwin Oslan, a self-proclaimed “punk rock right-winger” who moved to L.A. last year from West Bloomfield, Mich., was initially going to assist me on the event. After he cocked up the first task I gave him, I let him go. Bitter and angry, he demanded money from me. He also demanded that a Proud Boys leader pay for his drinks all night at the shindig. He had no rationale for those demands beyond a sense of entitlement. When he was refused, he decided to publicly dox the event, and then he embarked on a weeklong campaign to entice Antifa to violently disrupt the function.

Due to the doxxing, the venue received threats (including bomb threats).

The L.A. Proud Boys stepped up in a way that went beyond my expectations. Marshaling a force of almost forty men, they kept us, and the venue, safe—at the doors, inside the room, inside the garage, and at the perimeter. They were as discreet and professional as the highest-paid security guys I’d ever hired…and they didn’t ask for a penny. Far from being a band of “thugs,” they were disciplined, coolheaded, vigilant, and friendly. I cannot say enough good things about them. They saved the day. In fact, at the start of her speech, Ann remarked that she’d never felt safer in California.

That’s why the left is so committed to destroying the Proud Boys. They are our anti-Antifa, and we need them. Without them, who knows what might have happened at the Coulter event?

Truth is, I was caught off guard by Edwin’s behavior. I knew him for a year and a half, and I missed the warning signs that he was one of those guys who might pop off. But the Proud Boys saw it. Several months prior to my event and Edwin’s campaign to disrupt it, he’d tried to join the Proud Boys, and the L.A. Proud Boys leader smelled a rat immediately. This cycles back to my point about knowing there can be nutcases in our midst, and learning how to guard against them.

I slipped up this time, and I was saved by the Proud Boys. My personal debt to them is immense, and that’s the note I want to end on. As the left targets them for annihilation, the Proud Boys deserve support from all of us. Because one day, any one of us might need their help…to guard against our foes, or even one of our own.

Say what you will about ’em, but I’m all for the Proud Boys myself. They didn’t come along a moment too soon, and whatever you might think of Gavin McInnes he’s done good work with this, and my hat is off to him for it.

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1 thought on “Proud Boys NYC ass-whupping: the REAL story

  1. This is Porretto’s back yard. But he’ll keep on sucking those God damned pigs because they taste so good!

    God damn you to hell where you belong, Frankie! God damn you for eternity.

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